


Of course, she's interested

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [65]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Tyrion Lannister Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: “How about a trip to Volantis?”“Nah, not really interested,” Brienne turns him down, just as expected, much to the disappointed ‘oh,’ of the rest of the gang. “I’ve been there once.” She glanced from one grumpy face to the other. “You guys go ahead.”ORThe one where Tyrion proves Brienneis interested.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [65]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 18
Kudos: 104





	Of course, she's interested

“How about a trip to Volantis?”

“Nah, not really interested,” Brienne turns him down, just as expected, much to the disappointed _‘oh,’_ of the rest of the gang. “I’ve been there once.” She glanced from one grumpy face to the other. “You guys go ahead.” 

“A weekend at the new resort at Dragonstone?” Jaime suggests, hoping for a shot of success this time.

She shakes her head. “I grew up at Tarth, remember? The seaside isn’t something that catches my fancy enough for a—”

“Dorne?” Tyrion has a go this time, only to be met by the same denial.

“How about the North?” Sansa’s eyes shine with excitement. “Winterfell’s lovely during this time of the year—”

“I’m not really keen on freezing my ass on,” Brienne apologetically puts her down. “So—” 

“Not interested,” Sansa mimics her, slumping into the couch in frustration. “What would you be interested in, Brienne?”

“Owning a castle someday?” Bronn asks, reflecting his all-time dream and frantic ambition.

One of Brienne’s choicest frowns is what he gets. “Not interested. I don’t quite understand the charm of castles when you can have perfectly comfortable urban homes.”

“Becoming the president of Westeros?” Tyrion grins cheekily. “What could be higher than that? To be the ultimate citizen has always been—”

“— _your_ dream,” the wench points out. “Politics and the dirty games that come with it don’t interest me. I’m not that type.”

“Waking up one day to be blessed with a magic wand?” Sansa goes again, then adds with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “Not _the magic wand_ , but a real one, I mean. But, of course, it could be the other one too—what's better than a woman's best friend...” she trails away, winking.

Brienne colours, presumably at the reference of _the magic wand_. “Interested in neither, thank you.”

“Maybe own an Aladdin's lamp someday?” Bronn goes along in the same vein. “The genie could—”

“Wish-fulfillment doesn’t attract me. Unless it involves—” a strange expression crosses her face "—never mind."

Podrick’s face suddenly lights up. “Oh-oh, a teleport device?”

Brienne rolls her eyes. “Not interested. I have no complaints against the transport system. I'd be happy to move along in one piece rather than being subjected to the horror of materializing and de materializing every time I need to go somewhere.”

“Are you interested in anything at all?” Bronn grumbles, scowling.

They keep going for the next ten seconds, tossing her options just to check if she succumbs or not.

“Time travel?”

“Not interested. Who might possibly want to revisit what has already happened rather than look forward to—”

“A perfect wardrobe of clothes, or better still, a never ending supply of all the garments you crave.”

“No, thank you. I like the clothes I own.” 

“A chance to meet one of your celebrity crushes.”

She gives it more than a couple of seconds of thought, this time, and Jaime watches her closely. “Nope,” she goes again, as with everything else.

“The world’s best pair of shoes.”

“No.”

“The world’s fastest car.”

“Nah.”

“The world’s—”

“An evening with my brother,” Tyrion calls out, making himself heard above the other voices as he springs out of his uncharacteristic bout of silence. “A date with Jaime.” 

A wave of hush takes over as all eyes switch to Jaime. No one says another word. His heart is at his throat, beating harder, waiting while his eyes latch themselves on Brienne. Tyrion, however, appears to be in the mood to torment, to prevail, to seize victory from the jaws of defeat. “What do you say to that?” He looks at Brienne, barely smiling, the smug satisfaction he’s trying to conceal, quite evident, challenging her to shout out her trademark, _‘not interested.’_

“A romantic candlelight dinner,” He adds to it when she doesn’t object, and Jaime can’t help drifting into the pretty picture he’s painting. “A walk by the seashore, talking and sharing more than you’ve ever shared before.”

Brienne’s still silent, too stunned to speak, perhaps, though a dash of pink creeps up her cheeks. She doesn’t cut him, doesn’t stamp it down like she’d done with all the others, doesn’t—

“When he drops you home, a sweet passionate kiss, it will be, at your doorstep, just what your first ought to be like,” Tyrion goes on, “and when you break away, you can’t bear the thought of letting him go,” he continues to speculate. “You would then ask him to come in. And after that, one thing would lead to another and—”

“I think we’ll leave it at that,” Jaime croaks, clearing his throat, his heart singing as these words deliver a pleasurable punch to his belly. This is all he wants, but this is no more something he wants to discuss in public.

The company looks at each other, at Tyrion, who shrugs, then gets up abruptly. “Fine.” He shares a look with the others who follow suit like sheep. “Good night, Brienne.” 

When they’ve trickled away one by one, Jaime, who is the only one left, lingers around. Brienne, who has been tongue-tied since Tyrion dropped that bomb, looks up, clearly flustered by the unexpected direction the conversation had taken.

“Jaime, about what your brother—”

“You didn't give him an answer, wench.” He makes it to the other side of the coffee table to her. “What do you say then?” The blush deepens when he takes her hand. “Still not interested?”

“I never said that,” she says, her voice taking on a breezy edge he’s never come across before. And it’s more seductive than he can handle.

“How about tomorrow night?” He steps closer—close enough to absorb her perfume, her breath and everything else that makes her _her._ “A romantic candle light dinner,” he reflects, “a walk by the seashore and when we’re done—”

She’s all crimson now. “Our first kiss?”

He shakes his head, and when her brows converge in a quizzical look, draws her in his arms and presses his lips to hers. Sweet and gentle—it begins just the way he’s always wanted it to be, but when she blossoms into it like a bloom unfurling with the right touch, he’s lost, gone, swept away into it, into a world he’s visited only in his head so far. Hands stray, exploring with abandon as this gets hotter, heavier. They keep going—her pinned up against the wall and him, his body—definitely _certain_ needy bits down south, as much as his lips, telling her how badly he wants this and more. 

“Tyrion barely errs, but he got one thing wrong this evening,” he murmurs, letting go of her when their lungs can’t stand the pressure. “If he thought after all this, I could wait till a date for our first kiss—” 

His need and urgency getting the better of him, he challenges those flushed kiss-swollen lips to another pleasure encounter, and when she pushes back with the same fervour, he knows it’s going to lead to the _much more_ Tyrion hinted at.

Their pent-up lust, when it bursts out, is so intense, that it doesn’t take long for them to explode.

Shoes kicked away to be strewn here and there, they fumble through the kiss, fumble with their clothes, stumble across to the bedroom.

When their clothes are out of the way, when they finally crash into the bed, Jaime finds himself thanking the gods he doesn’t believe in.

And, of course, his cheeky little brother deserves a shout-out, too.

**Author's Note:**

> A silly little something that wouldn't leave me alone. Thank you for reading!


End file.
